Slap's Fables: The Bounder and The Gik

[somtamslap]

To the backdrop of a chaotic northeastern city, a Gik waited in vain for her prince charming to come hither. Night after night she would preen her flowing black hair in front of her bedroom mirror, yearning for that special someone to enter her life. He would be a handsome, wealthy, refined and affectionate gentleman, and together they would start a family, buy a house with a white picket fence bordering the boundary of their 10 rai of land, and live oh-so very happily ever after.

The Gik sighed, her heart a flutter with the thought.

Some 100 kilometres away in a small village, a fat alcoholic boarded his wheezing Honda Wave, bid farewell to his family, and set off towards the comparative civilization of the sprawling concrete metropolis. The fields he had previously been farming back in the village were not paying well. The land was arid. The land was infertile. The land was unsympathetic and indifferent to his requirements. The land, in summary, was a twat.

Having surmised that a satisfactory living could not be eked out from tilling, ploughing, plucking and calling unresponsive seedlings ‘spiteful little wankers’, the fat fucker, or the Bounder if you will, decided that the only viable solution to don the stark barren void of his bank account with a shilling or two, was to make haste in the direction of the big city where he would seek his fortune and perhaps partake in the occasional mucky massage or two en route.

Two weeks or so into this new venture saw the Bounder in fine fettle. Despite earlier objections he found himself rather warming to urban life. Amenities were a plenty, tasty food genially lurked on every street corner, there was a huge abundance of scantily clad snatch which made for superb bedtime wanking material, and of course his bank balance was growing healthier by the day – as was he.

He took up jogging; a pastime which he found to be so fulfilling that it quickly became addictive. Every evening, as the unrelenting sun of Thailand’s northeast finally dipped below the horizon, the Bounder would embark on a 5 kilometre run, enjoying the sound of his breath, wheezing as it was, and the sound of his trainers softly displacing the residue of the city streets. He also took this as an opportunity to gather more data for the wank-bank, as pleasantries were exchanged with flirty females who were invariably about 189 years old, although the occasional youthful filly would sometimes be happened upon – and one such of these youthful young fillies was the Gik.

The Bounder and the Gik soon made acquaintance.

She stood at about 5 feet and 4 inches. Her body was tight and pert. She had long black hair which fell behind her back in one elegant motion as she swept it from her brow. If the Oxford English dictionary had pictures, she would’ve been in it, under ‘female’.

He stood at about 6 feet and 2 inches. He was fat and clammy. His hair was matted with flecks of premature grey. If the Oxford English dictionary had pictures, he would’ve been in it, under ‘tramp’.

Yet almost inexplicably, several days later the Bounder found himself hanging from the back end of the Gik after blowing an unprecedented amount of semen betwixt her buttocks.

It was at this juncture that the Bounder thought it appropriate to conclude the whirlwind romance. He had come to the city to complete a task, and the inclusion of a female would surely render his agenda somewhat weaker.

‘Darling’ said the Bounder, wiping his knob on the curtains. ‘I think we should start seeing other people’.

This apparently didn’t fair well with the Gik as she fumbled open a bottle of Tylenol and attempted to wash a dozen of them down with half a bottle of whiskey.

The Bounder was quick to react, and elicited a gag reflex by ramming his fist down her throat.

He went for another jog that evening – and he didn't stop until he reached the innocence and solace of his small village, some 100 kilometres away.

Moral: Don't go to big cities because they are very scary and horrible.

[Necron99]

Your wife, she can't read English can she?

[somtamslap]

She can, very well.

This is just a fable though.

[baldrick]

wiping your knob on the curtains always seems to set the female off - dunno why , something about venus and mars apparently

[Storekeeper]

Well written as usual slap but not one of your better tales. Borrrrrrrring.

[somtamslap]

^That's what happens when you take this stuff out of the village. Shit gets samey.

[Latindancer]

^^ Not boring....it just needs polishing. He's just published it prematurely, that's all. It's fine till about 3/4 the way through, but then it kind of drifts off into a slightly fragmented ending which is neither detailed nor general, but both combined. And the punch line could be better.
Just polish it a bit, Slap. It's got good potential.

[withnallstoke]

Slap.

It's alright for you to sit there in the comfort of your own armchair and knocking the Big Smoke.
It's a lot more frightening than you remember.
I'm sut here in a hotel room with the shakes and the shivers, and whenever i part the curtains for a look at those o so nice paddy fields i find that some fucker has put buildings in the way - big tall concrete ones that make it impossible to tell what time of day it is by blotting out everything.

To say nowt about the billions of people rammed into this stinking mess.
Trampling each other in the rush to be somewhere else.

Got any soup?

[somtamslap]

^^ Wasn't really thought out much, as you can tell. More of the cuffness,..

I'm sut here in a hotel room with the shakes and the shivers,

Two words. Mini and Bar.

[patsycat]

I am really looking forward to your English tales.

And don't forget the time lapse, you'll be stuck with the likes of me at 11pm when all the Thailand people will be sleeping. Hopefully.

[ltnt]

Some 100 kilometres away in a small village, a fat alcoholic boarded his wheezing Honda Wave, bid farewell to his family, and set off towards the comparative civilization of the sprawling concrete metropolis. The fields he had previously been farming back in the village were not paying well. The land was arid. The land was infertile. The land was unsympathetic and indifferent to his requirements. The land, in summary, was a twat. Having surmised that a satisfactory living could not be eked out from tilling, ploughing, plucking and calling unresponsive seedlings ‘spiteful little wankers’, the fat fucker, or the Bounder if you will, decided that the only viable solution to don the stark barren void of his bank account with a shilling or two, was to make haste in the direction of the big city where he would seek his fortune and perhaps partake in the occasional mucky massage or two en route.

One could almost make a class assignment of the above two paragraphs. Classic references to love lost and found and failures of relationships. Pretty interesting stuff when looked upon as something worthwhile and not some entertainment for idiots like myself on T.D. Well done Slap.

Nice photo coming into or out of CM and its multifaceted shopping mall filled to the brim with consumers with no money.

I'm sut here in a hotel room with the shakes and the shivers, and whenever i part the curtains for a look at those o so nice paddy fields i find that some fucker has put buildings in the way

Try putting "mirrors," in where the windows are. Then you'll have company...

[somtamslap]

And don't forget the time lapse, you'll be stuck with the likes of me at 11pm when all the Thailand people will be sleeping. Hopefully.

Forget the Teakdoor proxy, pats.

Skype action is imminent.

Classic references to love lost and found and failures of relationships.

And fat, skint alchies

[MissTraveller]

Interesting read...lol.

Betwixt...haven't heard that word in awhile.
I keep thinking another photo needs to be in that post.

[Dillinger]

^ the back scuttling?

[Rural Surin]

^That's what happens when you take this stuff out of the village. Shit gets samey.

Well, move back then!

Atmoshere is everything.

[somtamslap]

I keep thinking another photo needs to be in that post.

Very well then..

[gaysexbyproxy]

the Bounder found himself hanging from the back end of the Gik after blowing an unprecedented amount of semen betwixt her buttocks.

Oh, man. That got me good bro. 555+

what's her number?

[Satonic]

^ 44

[WilliamBlake]

Betwixt...haven't heard that word in awhile.

He'll be using 'Occidentals' next...

[somtamslap]

what's her number?

For the purposes of this fable: 555 GAPING ANUS

[somtamslap]

^ 44

Is that a chap with an insignificant bulge? Looks quite the tart.

[somtamslap]

He'll be using 'Occidentals' next...

by accident maybe..

[MissTraveller]

Very well then..

haha....sexy boy.

He'll be using 'Occidentals' next...

[The Big Fella]

Slap, which delightful part of old Blighty will you be spending your time there ? Are you there to work or just a fleeting visit ? It won't be long before you miss por and head back I'm sure. Safe journey !

[ltnt]

And fat, skint alchies

More akin to Albert Camus and "Absurdism." Reflection on his book "The Stranger." something relating to looking for Banana Fish....